


begins and ends with you

by loumymind



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, definition of love, the fluffiest of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 10:32:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loumymind/pseuds/loumymind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry says love can't be defined. But really, to Harry, his definition of love is sitting mere feet away from him, wrapped up in a tight white jumper and skinny jeans. His definition of love will always begin and end with Louis Tomlinson. </p><p>** </p><p>An interviewer asks Harry how he would define love, and though he has to answer with an avoidance, his mind races with all the little things that add up to love for him. </p><p>Basically just a short fluffy drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	begins and ends with you

"I don't think you can really define love," Harry answers with a small smile, his eyes shifting just ever so slightly to the right. "I think it's margainly different to everyone."

  
Harry's mouth says these words but his brain is thinking something entirely different.

  
You see, Harry thinks love is two bodies squished so closely together in a tour bus bunk that there's barely any space between them. He thinks it's tangled limbs and laying in bed for hours when they're not on tour. It's getting to wake up next to the same person every morning, no matter what part of the world they're in. It's considering home a person, rather than a place.

  
Love is the brushing of soft fingers against his skin when no one is watching, secret touches and hidden smiles. It's what happens behind closed doors, when the eyes of the world aren't on them. It's a thumbs up, pressed against his face, which means so much more than just thumbs up. It's messages hidden in words that only they could understand. It's clever little comments, thrown into answers.

  
It's the overwhelming sense of amazement that wells up in his chest even after he hears the words I love you for the millionth time. It's feeling blessed to get to spend your life with such an amazing person. It's feeling privileged, knowing you're the one who gets to call him your boyfriend. It's the way his stomach still stupidly flips over the word boyfriend.

  
It's ink, sunk deep into skin. Words and promises and memories permantly etched onto their bodies. It's an anchor that needs a rope, a ship that needs a compass. Simple words like oops and hi, which when said together made his entire face light up like a stupid kid on Christmas. It's tattoos linking up together when a rough hand slips it's way into his.

  
Love is a musical festival and sharing a sleeping bag. It's a skiing holiday. It's a chime of laughter as he falls on the slopes one too many times.

  
It's the contrast between sitting on the couch drinking beers and watching the footy match together and then performing together in front of thousands of screaming voices. The contrast between how simple their life can seem, and them how hectic it can be. It's going through it all together.

  
It's prank wars and nerf gun fights at 3 am with their best friends.

  
It's the pride he feels over watching cleated feet kicking a ball towards a net.

It's stinky football jerseys that Harry hates washing, it's a messy room and someone who never does the dishes. It's not wanting to be with anyone else, despite all of that.

  
It's a stubborn boy who always says he won't be cold, then whines until Harry gives him his jacket.

  
It's singing cheesy duets in the car on the drive up to his parents house.

  
It's being welcomed into another family. It's playing with little sisters and helping a mum do the cooking. It's being accepted and loved by them for who he is.

  
It's secret plane rides to be able to send the holidays together.

  
It's the smell of tea filling his nostrils as he wakes up. It's also that one time that someone thought it'd be a good idea to dry bacon unsupervised and Harry woke up to the stink of smoke and a blaring smoke dectector. The red faced embarrassed boy who said "I just wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed on your birthday" and the swelling happiness that replaced any sense of irritation over the extra crispy bacon.

  
It's shopping trips where he seems to always end up buying things for someone else, rather than himself. It's the joy of seeing an silly excited boy trying on his new Spider-Man shoes.

  
It's morning blowjobs and before bed sex. It's a mix of passion and familiarity that he wouldnt give up for anything.

  
It's eyes so blue that they rival the sky. It's a smile that sets his stomach on fire. It's promises spoken through thin pink lips that make him look forward to the future.

  
Love is the big things and little things all wrapped up into one five foot something package.

  
Harry says love can't be defined. But really, to Harry, his definition of love is sitting mere feet away from him, wrapped up in a tight white jumper and skinny jeans. His definition of love will always begin and end with Louis Tomlinson.


End file.
